


Changeling.

by ballpoint



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Harry Potter - Freeform, Magic, femmeslash, half blood prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-21
Updated: 2005-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all life changing events happen with a bang, nor are they a sudden shift in spiritual tectonics; it's the little things, always. This is Tonks and Fleur's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changeling.

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer. This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended**.
> 
> **Author's notes**: because it takes a village for jazzy to write a story, huge thanks to for taking the time to look this over, this story would have been a mush lesser one without your input. Cheers to , the cheerleader from the Midwest, and for listening to me moan for the past three weeks. This story is in seven parts, and spans the entire time frame of HBP.
> 
> This is for for being gracious for a whole lot of things, and this is a pairing that she wanted explored in fanfic. I hope you like it, Gunn.

Not all life changing events happen with a bang, nor with a sudden shift in spiritual tectonics. It's the little things, always.

Sometimes it's more of a slow slide, plates shifting, infinitesimal but altering the landscape all the same.

The first time Tonks came across Fleur happened after Remus had left her for the last time. Remus John Lupin.

There were a thousand little things that made him attractive, and if asked, she would be at a loss to say which thing it was that made her his. It may have been the fact that he would speak to her as an equal in the Order Meetings, instead of with a vague paternal air (like Moody or Shacklebolt), or a sneer (like Snape). Perhaps, it was because he would try to translate the half language that he and the senior members of the order spoke without making her feel like a third wheel.

Or, the key moment might have been his sitting by her bedside when she stirred at St. Mungos, aware of the warm grip of his hand with hers when consciousness sparked memory.

Truth be told, at times she had flashbacks to that morning, when it hit her at once; what had happened, how near she came to dying- on a quiver of breath, her composure just shattered, and he was there, holding her against him, warm and solid, and silent.

If she closed her eyes, she would remember his hand squeezing her shoulder and stroking her hair, and her spirit would be stilled. He was strength and stillness and quiet wit, characteristics that weren't a hardship to cherish. Yet at the same time, these were the same traits that frustrated her immensely; how he would listen to her and get her point of view while never revealing his own, and his quietly stubborn refusal to give her what she wanted.

He- _they_ deserved this, whatever it was. Time wasn't theirs to hold, to neither store nor promise.

Their time was now, and he was just being difficult. The first couple of nights after the skirmish at the Department of Mysteries their waltz had been awkward. First it was conversation about their strategy, which admittedly steadied her a great deal. They spoke about combat, and tactics, and how the battle should have gone. The conservation then segued to his visiting her when she'd been recovering at St. Mungos.

Sometimes, they had fractured little wakes for Sirius, and the life of the Order pre Department of Mysteries. _I never knew him_, she said as they sipped tea from her brightly coloured mugs, she sitting cross-legged on the bed, while he sat at the corner of it idly picking at the decorations of her duvet.

_He got sent to Azkaban when I was young…my Mum… she left the Blacks behind when she married my father, see?_

_He was a good man, just a flawed one_. Remus said with a sad little smile as he tore his gaze from the paisley patterned bedcovers to look at her. _Remember him_ at his best.

_Yes_, she responded, inching closer to him, her cup levitating to the side table where it landed with a 'click'. _I'd rather remember you…me waking up and seeing you…_

_Nymphadora-_

_Tonks_, she said firmly. On this- her name -she would not be budged. She felt herself warm at his wistful and oddly secret smile- and her needing to decipher the unknown there- before her skin pulled to his touch. Before she tumbled off into misty dreamlike shores, Tonks thought,_ it will be just like this in the light_. Never dreaming that Remus would be as distant as his excuses would allow. Each one being the equivalent of an arm's length of emotional distance, slick walls of denial that she found impossible to breach- his justifications were complete worlds in themselves, with oily skins impervious to her tears, wails and pleas. _Too old. Too poor. Too dangerous. You deserve someone whole_.

He gave a litany of excuses, a rosary of reasons, a string of nos so smoothed by time and heavy use that she came to resent every one.

Molly understood, her warmth all encompassing and familiar as the jumpers she knitted. After the first rejection, Tonks left her bed to do her shift at Hogwarts by enforcing the wards at the school while the students were away. That day was marked by rain, and she wondered how it could actually be liquid ice in the summer that ran down the back of her robes, the wind poking frigid fingers through the spaces of her garb, violating her body with its chill. The walls were liquid shimmering shapes that day and on Apparating to Molly's house she understood why, as her voice became an explosion of water and phlegm.

"Molly," she remembered her voice being a sharp sob while she dashed at tears from her face with the back of her hand, "how can I make him _understand?_" Tonks dimly remembered the specifics of Molly's comfort after that, finding herself wrapped in a home-knit afghan and jumper, her numb fingers wrapped around a mug of tea, her nose being tickled by the scent of baked wheat and nut bread.

_He'll understand_, Molly soothed, topping up her mug anew, smoothing Tonks' tangled mousey mane._ Remus is just used to being alone for so long, you see dear, he isn't used to better. It's up to you to show him_. Fortified with tea, warmth and soothing, Tonks took heart at Molly's reasoning because well… it was true. Didn't she and Remus spend the nights together at her bedsit shortly after Sirius' death? There must have been something there, for him to seek her out every night? He was too good, to gentle for this to be some sort of… _fling_. Molly was right. He would come around to her way of thinking in time.

Their last confrontation had a double whammy; he received his orders from Dumbledore. He would be going away.

They were in her room again, Tonks naked under the quilt, her eyes accusatory as she watched Lupin summon clothes to his person, getting ready to leave.

"I'll be stopping with the werewolves for a while," he finished lightly, shrugging into his coat.

"No." Words were viscous sticky-tongue glue in her mouth, and she placed her fingers on her lips as if to open them, to allow them to come out. Swallowing, she licked her lips and tried again.

"Remus," she said finally, unable to say anything else. The candle was in its wick burning low, throwing the room into shadow upon shadow, multilayered flickers of umbra and penumbras changing with each swing of light. At this he turned to her, his fringe shadowing his face and eyes.

"You know that we're small in number Tonks," he started softly, his voice falling away for a minute, his eyes briefly touching on her before looking at the patterns of her bedcovers. _Stop looking at them, look at me!_ she wanted to scream, but only swallowed, knowing that if she did scream, if she did cry, he would just hold her hand and pretend as if she were a girl, just a silly little _girl_.

So she took a breath and held it for a moment. There was the hum of muggle traffic on the distant M 25, and just the shudder of her breathing as she exhaled, knowing that her question was rhetorical anyway, but she refused to whine.

"Why do _you_ have to go?"

"If joining the werewolves gives us a chance to win this war, in all good conscience, I can't say no."

"B-but-" Tonks started, feeling her heart being scored into ragged grooves by the unerring bluntness of his words, hating him for doing this to her, to them. Hating him for his unflagging nobility and his sodding unflappable calm.

"What about- ?" she stopped as her breath hitched at this, her fingers morphing into claws in her sheets. On another breath she willed her talons to become fingers again, a beat of time before she finished with a rush.

"What about _us?_"

At this Remus stilled, his eyes darkening with … _something…_ for a mere moment, before he ran his fingers through his hair, and he became himself again. "Tonks." Remus said, his voice firm, reverting for a moment to the teacher who brooked no argument from wayward students. The register did not change, but the tone became more formal, distant. "I can't afford to fail Dumbledore, not again. We cannot afford to lose this war."

"Right." she nodded, her voice tear sodden, resigned to his choice. Her tongue wasn't so glutinous anymore, but her mind was blank. He was right, duty overshadowed desire. They had to do what they had to do, and then… he'd know of his love for her. He'd listen to his heart and see what they'd have, what they could be together. _Remus, if you could just look at me one last time before you go, I'd tell you that I love you_. Probably, if he had turned around, Tonks remembered thinking later; she would have said them aloud.

Perhaps, if she had, he probably would have stayed- at least until morning. He only turned on his heel, stalked to the corner of her room with his wand out, and with a sharp 'pop' of Apparition, he was gone. That night, her bed was a continent; she tossed, turned and rolled, her limbs unaccustomed to the cold vast space. There were no borders marked by his body, his imprint erased by her tugging and thumping the bed covers and tearing at the sheets. Always careful to leave nothing of himself behind, she had nothing of his to hold. _The next time_, she promised herself. _I will tell him, and the world will know_.

Chapter Two

The day after Lupin left, Tonks found herself doing sentinel duties with Dawlish. Surveillance detail was boring work, but it was imperative to ensure that the wards were secure for the school year.

The work was painstaking, checking the magical signatures and making sure the levels stayed at full strength. At the tips of their wands were crystals for purification and maintaining the strength of the wards. This was done by reinforcing the properties of the ley lines that ran at perpendicular angles across the castle grid, linking them to the hill tops in the distance. The wands acted as dowsing rods, that allowed them to tap into energies from the school.

Then they employed arcane charms on the latitude and longitude of said lines, bridging it with the latent powers of Hogwarts. If everything was done correctly, the lines would flash, signalling the end of the process and if not- they had to clear the magical signatures and start from scratch �" again. At half six when Dobson and Campbell came for their shift, Tonks was ready to drop.

"Finally, what took you lads so long?" she huffed as Dobson and Campbell Apparated beside her. "The usual, there's concern about the Dementors and other things." Dobson shrugged his shoulders.

"We had to report in, get our chocolate from St. Mungos and file some reports before coming here."

"Right." Tonks answered curtly. "Look, I'm running late. You may want to redouble the checks on the turrets to the North side, above the library."

"We'll be fine." Dobson winked and grinned at her, as she moved to the specific site marked at the far left of the passage to Apparate from Hogwarts. The Ministry insisted on this protocol so that the castle movements could be closely monitored. "We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." Tonks nodded. Ordinarily Dobson's jaunty manner made her smile but she was feeling raw and bruised today, and she just needed to go and speak to Molly. Only Molly was not home when she magicked in. She could not have been far though, since the wards were still keyed to allow members of the Order unrestricted entry. Tonks knew that eventually, this privilege would be discontinued as the troubles went on, _but for now_\- she shook her head, focusing on the present. The kitchen was clear, there was no fire in the hearth, and not even the lamps were lit. That was not an issue as it was still filled with natural light. It was late summer and the days tended to be shorter here, in the South.

The sun hung on for dear life here �" not like the green wink of the sunsets in the tropics that she had visited in childhood- and the room was filled with a mellow golden tint. The house was uncharacteristically quiet. Not that she was paranoid, but- Immediately, Tonks went on alert, she held her wand before her; arms length, elbow flexed, wand held at a 45 degree angle, the weight of her body shifting to the balls of her feet, every fibre of her being attuned to danger, and suddenly she heard it �" someone swearing viciously in the back of the garden.

At this, she relaxed with relief. There's no way that embittered swearing would have belonged to a Death Eater.

On a breath, Tonks skimmed across the kitchen floor, and opened the back door a crack, seeing someone out there, sitting on a chair to the far corner of the garden. The woman's face obscured by a fall of silvery white hair, a wand in one hand, waving it around the index finger of the other.

Tonks recognized the variation of a healing spell, and an abandoned embroidery hoop face down at her feet, splattered with drops of blood. _Surely, no-one could do needle point and be evil_. Tonks thought. The person seemed to be alone, and if anything, she was an Auror, and could defend herself. With that, she swung open the door, and stopped as the person in question raised her head. "'Allo." she said, tossing her silvery white hair from her face with a slender hand; she waggled her fingers experimentally, after glancing at her nails and finding them satisfactory, she flashed a cheeky grin.

_Ah, veela_. Tonks thought. She was in silvery-blue robes, a foil for her alabaster skin and moonlight hair. With her fair hair, skin and light eyes, the only word that described her was fey. The colour of the robes brought out the clarity of her eyes, and she vaguely remembered Molly saying something about Bill's girlfriend, a - "Fleur Delacour, right?" Tonks asked, moving herself from the doorway into the garden where Fleur was seated.

At this Fleur's smile, already bright, now became warm. "Ah, yes." she nodded, as she put her work to one side.

"I am she- it is �"" a shake of her head at this, and her hands fluttered into her lap. _Lady's hands_, Tonks noted idly. Long slender fingers that seemed nimble, her nails a delicate coral tint. Tonks, self conscious of her own fingernails, with their ragged cuticles (because she nibbled at them now more than ever, due to increased job stress) surreptitiously placed them behind her back.

"Yes," she said finally. "You are?"

"Tonks."

"Tonks." Fleur repeated, but it came out as 'tunks'. _Close enough anyways,_ Tonks thought. _Mum still calls me Nymphadora. I'll take 'tunks' over that any day_.

"Yes. Erm… is Molly in? I wanted to speak to her and-"

"Molly." Fleur made a delicate _moue_ with her mouth, her displeasure for Molly plain. "Ah. Molly 'ad to go somewhere with Ginnee, and �"" a sharp sigh at this, a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "-and I am here."

"Oh." Tonks nodded, at a loss for words, disappointed in this fact, and started to make her excuses. "Ah well…I probably should go…"

"_Non_. Don't be ridiculous." Fleur stood up and stalked across the garden to the kitchen, leaving her hoop behind. Tonks opened her mouth to point this out, but Fleur began to speak again. "You're here, and I am bored, and you don't want me bored, no?" she gave Tonks a sly look over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "A bored Fleur is a sad Fleur, and you wouldn't want to make me sad, no?"

"Yes, I mean n-no." Tonks began, realizing that to leave now would be rude, and honestly, she did not want to go to her flat just yet.

"_Bon_."

Dragging her wand from her sleeves, Fleur did a complicated flick swish downward movement. From out of nowhere, a bottle of wine and two glasses zinged from the cupboard, the glasses quickly settling on the table, topping off with the plumy liquid.

"Wine?"

"No. I'm sorry, I may be called on duty later and-"

"Ah. Tea then. You British and your teas." Fleur tittered, as she gestured with a flourish for Tonks to take a seat. "Do you take sugar and cream?"

A few minutes later, Fleur had the makings of tea set for both of them. She lit the fire �" 'because England is so cold, non? I can't believe that it's only August'- and had tea and scones at the ready.

"So, what is eet that you wished to speak to Molly about?" Fleur asked, making the tea pot tip just a bit of tea into her cup. With a wave of her hand, the tea pot burrowed itself in its tea cosy, before gently snoring with a faint _ssssiinng_ noise. At this Tonks stilled, the cup stopping half way to her mouth, and with a clink, she placed it back on its saucer.

"I'm sorry, I can't see how that is any business of yours." she retorted, not bothering to hide the chill tones that crept into her voice. The mood grew crisp at this, almost to the point of discomfort, and Tonks pushed her tea cup away.

"Please," Fleur shrugged- there was that quick roll of shoulders again- and her hand flicking the strands of silvery tresses from her face. "I'm just trying to make conversation. I've seen you before, and all you and Molly do is speak about that Lupin fellow-"

"I beg your pardon?" Tonks retorted, torn between amazement and anger at Fleur's sheer effrontery. The conversations she had with Molly were heartfelt, real and helpful, not to be mocked by _her_.

"No need to beg. I'm here, I heard you two the last time. Oh Lupin this, oh Lupin dat. Molly tends to be-" she mimicked, opening and closing her hands in a parody of a beak.

"Molly tends to be ... loud. Her voice simply hurts my ears." Tonks was torn between laughter and horror, for a long moment, had no words before she finally stammered; "I've never heard you. I've only ever glimpsed you at a few of the meetings."

At this, Fleur made a face and fluffed her hair. Tonks had to admit that she was a pretty girl �" all elegant lines and hair- but on this side of vacuous.

"Ah. Well, see Molly is… better in, oh what do you English say? Ah! She's best in small doses, like Belladonna. A little can stop pain, a lot can keel you. A lot of Molly can keel you too." After this little speech, Fleur stopped, and Tonks felt herself subjected to an intense appraisal, and immediately amended her observations, steeling herself for any other wisecracks, almost disappointed at what she said next.

"I like your hair. Pink?"

"Ah…" At this Tonks' hand fluttered to the nape of her neck, her fingers toying with the hair there. "Erm, it's _magenta_, actually."

"Charming, but are the streaks of brown intentional? They are rather odd." Fleur responded, leaning forward, "but I guess you know that, right?"

Stung at this criticism, Tonks willed her hair to a hot bright pink, to probably match the burn of her cheeks, because her face felt hot, and grew hotter still on Fleur's peal of laughter. "Oh, how clever!" Fleur said, jumping from her chair and clapping her hands, her robes swirling around her body as she swept alongside Tonks. "What are you? A changeling? I remember studying the _Torr-a-Bhulg_ in my _Discourse of Foreign Magics_ class for my Baccaowlerate."

 

"I'm a Metamorphmagus, not a changeling." Tonks found herself wrinkling her nose at this. "A changeling steals children, and has an allergic reaction to metal. I don't and �"_what are you doing?_" Tonks shifted her head as Fleur touched her hair, rubbing a lock of it between her forefinger and thumb.

"Oh be quiet. I just wish to touch your hair. It's the first time I've ever been this close to a changeling-"

"Metamorphmagus." Tonks swallowed as Fleur's knuckle brushed against her cheek, and they both froze at the contact. Tonks felt the faint tremor running through those fingers, and against her better judgement, she stole a glance at Fleur's face, and saw her eyes widening with �" something- and followed the quick dart of her tongue as she wetted her lips.

Fleur shifted her body a fraction, her hair falling over her shoulders, closer and - Before she could figure out what _that_ meant, however, there was a loud pop heralding apparition. "Molly." Fleur uttered _sotto voce_ as she moved away. With a languid flick of the wrist, all the things were set to rights with great dispatch, as the tramp of feet indicated Molly and Ginny coming into the kitchen.

"Oh,Tonks dear." Molly greeted, as she shook herself as if cold, then upon both of them seeing Fleur, the warmth in the room dropped a few degrees. "I see that you put the fire on, thank you. Ginny, can you help me-?"

"Mum! I'm already going out!"

_"Ginny!"_

"Leave it, mum. I'm out!" with that Ginny _Summoned_ her broomstick, and with a toss of her hair, she stomped out of the house and slammed the door.

"Well." Molly clapped her hands and rubbed them briskly. "That's that. Would you like tea, Tonks?"

"No, no thanks Molly." Tonks shook her head, her voice a croak. Horrified, she quickly cleared her throat, hardly daring to meet Molly's gaze with Fleur nearby. "I have to be going. It's gotten late."

At this, Molly's face softened in sympathy, as she mistook Tonks' distress for something else. "I guess you've heard about Remus's mission then. Oh Tonks." with a knowing sigh Molly stepped forward to grab her hands. "Trust in him. In you. It may take a little time, but he will come around and -"

"Excuse me, Molly," Fleur started, choosing to ignore Molly's muttered _it's Mrs. Weasley to you, dear_. "Do you know when Bill will be 'ome? It's getting late, and I may just pop to the local apothecary to get some things."

"No,sorry." Molly replied stiffly, "I should think that Bill keeps his own hours, and-"

"No matter." Fleur's voice was dismissive, and with a grin, she turned to Tonks, placing cool fingers against her forearm, not noticing that her hair whipped across Molly's face for an instant. Tonks almost jumped at the contact, but caught herself in time. Luckily, Molly did not notice anything amiss. "It was nice speaking to you. I do 'ope we meet again."

"Tonks usually comes by the house for Order business, Fleur dear. I don't think that she'd have time to see you."

"Ah, of course not." Fleur splayed her fingers against her chest, and Tonks had to choke back a giggle at how melodramatic Fleur was being. "She can't really stop for tea with you anymore, no? I can't see that being _Order_ business either. Ah well, I need to pop to the apothecary before Madame Duncan closes. Adieu, Tonks, I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

With a jaunty wink she turned on her heel, and walked to the door, and as soon as it opened, she disappeared with a 'pop.'

"Hmmm." Molly harrumphed, "she always does that, even though she knows that there's a designated place for Apparating."

Immediately Tonks squeezed Molly's hands, and started to soothe, seeing how agitated Molly got around Fleur, and oddly, she sympathized. "She's an interesting girl." "Oh, _veelas_." Molly rolled her eyes. "Thinking that they are entitled to everything just because of some magical fluke. Well. Let's speak of other things. Shall we take tea?"

Chapter Three

It had been months without a word from Remus and at times Tonks found herself on the brink of tears, willing herself not to think of the dangers he faced, but her fears were like smoke; they were there, but evaded every technique she used to try and capture and cage.

At other times, she would close her eyes and try to will him to _feel_ her, so that he would have no other recourse but to come home to her. Molly had been kind enough to send her an owl post saying that he had been around for Christmas; a bit frail but doing well, and he was sorry to have missed her, but he had been under close surveillance from Fenrir Greyback's pack. He had not visited her, nor sent a note. On one hand she understood �" or tried to- the caution in his actions, him protecting herself and Harry, but on the other hand, she was hurt. She knew and accepted his duties to the order, and what they meant, but surely he must have been thinking about her the way she did him? If he really wanted to, he could have gotten word to her through Dumbledore or Molly. She wanted to be a part of what he was going through. They could face the dangers together, because he knew that he did not have to be alone anymore.

Tonks spent her days either patrolling the perimeter of Hogwarts, or doing shifts at the Ministry, sometimes with a bit of work for the Order thrown in. Each Auror stationed at Hogwarts knew the importance of looking out for 'The Boy Who Lived', but God! As much as Harry was a nice enough lad, he just did not understand-- The other day, Tonks had tried to find Dumbledore, to try to get news, any news, of Remus. She ran into Harry. Harry had turned to her saying; "I miss him, I miss Sirius too, Tonks. Don't be ashamed." She had cut him off brusquely at that, blinking back at the sudden burn in her eyes. Harry, for all of his titles-The Chosen One, The One Who Lived �" did not know the half of it. It was everything, this stupid war, the fact that for all her vows as an Auror, and for all her training, _it meant nothing_.

"Said something there, Tonks?" Tonks snapped back into the present, and shaking her head she waved her partner's question away.

"No, Dobson. I didn't say anything. Has your hex cleared up?"

Dobson laughed at this. "Yes, it has. Dumbledore is a spry one for his years. The other guys have been taking the mick for the past two weeks. First Dawlish, now me." Tonks bit her lip and looked away, knowing that she had been one of those yelling and hooting with laughter when they'd found out. On that day, when she heard about the incident she had laughed, but stopped quickly when she realized how strange it sounded. This was not the time for laughter, when the man she loved was abroad, and not even daylight could hold the dangers at bay anymore. She had to be serious, for her own sake, as well as those she had to protect.

"Go ahead, Tonks. Laugh. I can sit down now, thank you very much for asking." Dobson grinned at her, but it was a second too late, her mood had turned sombre again, and continued until her shift was finished. At least in the days she had company with her colleagues to keep her from thinking about Remus, and that helped �" sometimes. Her evenings were another story--restless, marked by the tussle of bedclothes as she twisted and turned trying to find a position to sleep--only to wake up finding her nails pressed into her palms and sometimes biting her lip until it bled. As an Auror, she was forbidden to take sleep assisted medication--she could be fire called at any time--and her reflexes had to be sharp.

_I'm not weak. Not weak, not weak_, she would chant, forcing her lips to move, her voice to be heard in the stillness of the room._ I'm an Auror_. Then, if that did not work �"_ I'm a Metamorphmagus.._.

If that wasn't enough she'd squeeze her eyes shut and think of her mother, her aunt and her cousin. Each of them strong in his or her own way, and she'd hesitate on the words, knowing that sometimes; it was blood that made you after all. _I'm a Black_.

 

Other times, she stayed up nights trying to will her shape shifting skills to the surface. Her hair was mousy brown now, her face heart shaped and plain. She just could not do it anymore. The last time she had been able to do anything was the day after Remus left. _An emotional pulse_. That is what it was; her powers were not lost as much as regressed, a sort of magical amnesia, and they came in tiny incremental spurts. Like a magical hiccough. What made her situation a bit more tenuous was that her superiors did not know. Right now, subterfuge and disguise were not needed for the jobs that she did; just basic magic; offensive and defensive.

Easy enough. To prove it to herself, she levitated her wand towards her- from its resting place on the night table beside her bed- and uttered a _lumos_, bathing the room in a soft green glow. But, to be placed (and stay) in action, an Auror had to function at maximum capacity in all aspects of his powers �" both specialist and general. It was only fair, since his duties ran the gamut of protecting Muggle world leaders and the Wizarding society at large from the agents of Voldemort and other Dark Creatures home and abroad.

In addition to the general criteria an Auror had to declare a speciality, and hers was strongly related to her power as a Metamorphmagus. If her superiors found out she was no longer able to morph … she would be taken from the front line, and chained to the desk for the foreseeable future.

_No better than a Muggle policeman_.

By this time sleep was just a concept of being. Tonks would spend the remainder of the night clutching her wand and her pillow to her chest, rocking her body to and fro waiting for the morning to come. When the times got as bad as this, Tonks would Apparate to the Burrow, soaking up tea and sympathy and trying to hold on to the comforting feelings Molly showered on her for as long as she could, until life wore her down again. This time when she came to call on Molly, it was evening. The mist was thicker in this part of the world, rolling to ground, snaking around her ankles, making the twilight ominous and opaque. The Dementors were still breeding unchecked, and everyone walked with bars of chocolates on his person �" just in case. Snuggling into the fold of her cloak, Tonks gave a cursory knock on the door.

 

"Who is it?" Molly's voice came from the other side of the door- cautious and low- just another sign of the times. Tonks quickly scanned the yard and, seeing nothing amiss, responded in the same tone of voice.

"It's me Molly. It's Tonks." The door opened at this, and Tonks was ushered into warmth and enveloped in a hug.

"Come in, come in." Molly fussed and fluttered, "let me take your coat." "Thanks Molly." she shrugged out of her cloak, only to fumble on the rug, almost losing her footing.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Tonks waved Molly off, turning towards the front room, and paused when she saw the other occupant there.

_Fleur_.

Normally, Tonks took her clumsiness in stride. She put it down to her body constantly changing and rearranging itself as a side effect of her powers. Didn't she actually laugh and wave off Remus' assistance when she first met him after stumbling over a chair? Or her tripping while running down the stairs of old Grimmauld Place, and landing so heavily on Sirius, she broke _his_ ankle? (At times, she still tried to puzzle that one out). Now though, her skin prickled and automatically, she wiped her sweat slicked palms on the thighs of her jeans.

"Tonks." The greeting was cultured, and this side of cool.

"Wotcher, Fleur," she replied, trying to keep her greetings casual, but to her chagrin it came out sounding a bit strangled. With sudden clarity, she was aware of her clothing and the picture that she presented. Her faded and well worn _Weird Sisters_ shirt, teamed with Muggle denims and chunky boots. Self consciously, she tugged at the edges of her shirt, and found her fingers reaching to toy with her hair �" Fleur had only seen it pink- until she caught herself, curled her fingers into a fist, and forced her hand in her jeans pocket as a show of nonchalance.

"-tea, Tonks?"

"Oh, sorry, Molly?"

"I said, will you be taking tea?"

"Yes, please."

"Right, well this way." Molly gestured towards the kitchen, and Tonks had no other recourse but to follow her. Besides, Molly was the person whom she had come to see anyway. _Not bloody Fleur Delacour._

"So you haven't heard any word from Remus as yet?" Molly asked, serving a plate of stew in front of her. They were in the kitchen, Tonks seated at the table, bread and cheese in mid chew. The good thing about stopping by Molly's was the food. Being a single girl, Tonks was not much of a cook, and heartily took advantage of people who were. The fire was cracking merrily in its hearth, the stew in its cauldron bubbling away merrily, the kitchen fragrant with the woody smells of allspice and thyme.

"No," she swallowed, pushing the bowl away from her, appetite gone. "He's deep undercover," she shrugged, saying what they already knew. "He's doing what he needs to do."

"Tonks." Molly gave her shoulder a brief squeeze, before moving her bowl away. "Remus'll come around. He's a good man, and a kind one." Before Tonks could fashion a reply, Arthur's head popped up in the hearth.

"Molly!" he started, his eyes tired, his voice bright. "We-" he cut himself off, inclining his head in her direction. "Tonks, hello."

"All right, Arthur?" she nodded at him, as Molly knelt down by the fire place in order to speak to her husband.

"Yes, yes." Arthur nodded, voice vague. "Erm… Tonks, can I speak to Molly alone for a bit? Ah-"

"No worries." Tonks pushed her bowl aside before standing up. "I'm finished anyways, so I'll just-"

"Tonks, wait a bit dear, I won't be long." Molly called over her shoulder while simultaneously summoning a cushion to the spot on the floor beside her.

"Ah, okay." Tonks ended upstairs washing her face and hands in the bathroom, half hoping that she would be able to sleep tonight. Just to stumble into fitful slumber as soon as she hit the pillow, not so much to ask, was it? After muttering a drying spell for her hands and face, she stepped out into the hall turning to the rustle of robes, only to see Fleur perched on the window sill clad in her bedclothes.

Fleur's face was scrubbed clean, her hair tightly bound at the nape of her neck. The passage was illuminated by a soft pearl coloured light from the tip of her wand. She looked cameo pretty, but _so terribly young_�"then Tonks remembered she was barely even twenty. Ideally, Tonks should have Apparated downstairs to bid Molly goodbye, and find her way home.

She should not be here, admiring the curve of Fleur's neck, nor the snub nose that seemed more pixie than Veela. Her hands were dainty and graceful, her fingers bare, her wrists delicate and finely veined. She should not think of how those delicate fingers had brushed her forearm, how they'd left lasting imprints of prickling heat everywhere they'd touched. At odd times, she wondered what would have happened if Molly and Ginny had not returned when they did- her mind always skittered away if she tried to think beyond this point- causing her hands to fly to her heated cheeks, them staying there until the mad impulse passed.

_This time_, she thought,_ I'm going to take the initiative_. Normally, Fleur was the one that caught her off guard, and perhaps it was because she always spoke first, making the conversation hers. Besides, she should be skilled in small talk, her mum being Andromeda Tonks née Black, mistress of the social tete a tete. She had learned from the best, _and I'm an Auror, aren't I?_

"You're still up then?" the words flew out of her mouth of their own accord, while her mind was still processing what she said. _Shit. Bloody miss obvious you are, Tonks_.

At this Fleur's lips curved with amusement, making Tonks realize that the question sounded as stupid as she feared it did. "Yes. I'm waiting for Bill, he's at Gringotts this evening, working late."

"You work there too, don't you?" Tonks asked, leaning against the wall, studying Fleur some more, surreptitiously noting the curve of her jaw, and the intriguing hollow at the base of her throat. "If I remember correctly?"

"_Ou_i." Fleur nodded, textbook polite. "I do, although only part time. I spend the rest of my time learning English."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh." Fleur repeated.

"So, if you're waiting for Bill, why are you in the hallway?" Tonks was curious now, as she took a step towards her.

"Shouldn't he be able to Apparate into your room as it were?" At this, Fleur dipped her head for a bit, and placed her fingers against her lips before looking up at Tonks, then quickly looking away, but not before Tonks saw her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Ah… it seems that Molly laced all the upstairs rooms with _charmes de modestie_."

"_Charmes de mo- _? Oh. Oh!" Tonks clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the laugh that threatened to bubble out, and embarrass them both. Or even worse, make them friendly to each other.

"Yes. It bars suitors from the bride to be's room." Fleur recovered enough to do the unnecessary explanation. "It seems that _Madame_ Weasley doesn't want me corrupting her _petit garcon_." There was a slightly bitter twist to her voice at this, causing Tonks to realize two things; her accent, although strong, was not as exaggerated as it was when the others were around. Her English was not as fractured either. Before she could dwell on that though, Fleur held her wand up, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"So, what is this, then?" Fleur waved her hand in the general direction of Tonks' hair. "Why the brown? It ees terrible, it washes out your face, you look 'orrible." Tonks paused at this. It was too big to get into, too _personal_, she already told Molly, and as it was, no-one else needed to know, but before she could form a suitably chilly response, Fleur was already ahead of her.

"You think that being sad will make him come back, even though he met you when you were happy?" Her eyes narrowed at this, almost cutting Tonks in two with the glare. "Is that why you stayed away from the Burrow at Christmas?" Tonks' response was to fold her arms across her chest, and be mulishly silent.

Fleur hopped off the window sill, and took a step towards her. "_Rubbish_. " she finally finished. "Molly should be encouraging you to go back to magneta-"

"_Magenta_." Tonks corrected automatically, even though she felt her cheeks starting to tinge with anger. Strangely, it felt good to burn like this, although it made her head giddy and her pulse throb.

"And how dare _you_ judge me? The man I love is actually out there in Fenrir Greyback's pack, while yours is safely ensconced in Gringotts somewhere, while you're here preening, the house guest that never _leaves_. Until your fiancé has dealings with Fenrir Greyback, you have no right to jeer or to criticize. You have nothing on the line. _Nothing_."

Her voice was tight and furious but controlled, being mindful of the Weasleys' conversation in the rooms below. There was a hush after this bitter little speech. Fleur's hand tightened around her wand, and for a second, Tonks thought that she had half a mind to use it. Instinctively, her hand went to her own. She did not know a thing about Fleur Delacour's abilities, but had no intention of being felled by a girl named flower, for crying out loud. _But she was the tri-wizarding champion from Beauxbatons._ _I'm not half bad either_. With that thought, Tonks' hand tightened around the hilt of her wand, her senses on full alert, ready for whatever offense Fleur came up with. With a curt nod, Fleur drew herself up to her full height and- Then the shrill notes of Molly's voice floated upwards.

"-and Ron did his first Apparition class the other day-" The snatch of conservation broke the impasse.

"Well," Fleur huffed, her cheeks a dull flush. "I'm tired, and am for bed. If you wish, you can tell _madame_ that I've retired for the night." At this, Tonks felt the first stirrings of shame. She took a long time to get riled, and once her storms passed, she was the same girl again. Tonks closed her eyes for a brief moment �"_Oh Merlin_ \- because she had just realized what she said, and even more damning, what she implied. "Fleur-" she started, taking another step towards her.

"I-"

"Good night." Fleur gave a curt little nod, her eyes unnaturally bright. She then spun on her heel and stomped to her rooms. The door swung open- almost bursting off its hinges with the force of Fleur's wand work- and with a jerk of her hand, the door swung behind her �" quickly, Tonks muttered a charm to prevent the door from slamming. The Weasley's were still talking, after all. At this, Tonks ran her hand through her hair and looked outside. It was late, she'd better get on home too. Not before popping down to thank Molly for tea and sympathy -again.

Chapter Four 

She had to apologize. It had been two days since that confrontation with Fleur at the Burrow, and somehow, she had to make amends. She honestly did not mean it--to suggest that Bill was a coward was horribly unfair. In fact, he was a valued member of The Order, and had actually given up so much to do a desk job at Gringotts in order to fight. He was a comrade in arms and Fleur was his wife to be. Fleur may have been rude, but that was no reason to wish Fenrir Greyback on anyone... She may not have been able to convince Remus about anything, nor could she do anything about the troubles or her lack of powers, but a bleeding apology was something that she could do, something that she could set to rights. She would do it right after work tomorrow.

In the mornings, when she came into work, there were macabre games that Tonks would play. At first, she skimmed though _The Daily Prophet_, making sure to note the names of people who died by Voldemort's hand.

If she had heard of the people in passing, five points, if she had known them personally - _like Hestia Jones or Sirius Black_\- fifteen points. The trick was to try and get to one hundred points within two minutes. After that game got too boring (depressing, actually, with the number of dead that she counted), setting her mouth in a thin line, she then scanned the papers for any news about Fenrir Greyback and his pack, telling herself that it was her job to do so, knowing that it was the only way she would ever hear anything about Remus' whereabouts.

That morning, she had a bit of scare, upon seeing the word 'Fen' while scanning the pages, and suddenly felt light headed, black snowflakes floating at the edges of her vision, a geyser of acid erupting in the pit of her stomach, the blunt pain of teeth cutting into the flesh of her lower lip. Whispering a prayer to anyone or anything, Tonks tried turning the page, her eight fingers now becoming ten thumbs, just tearing at the pages instead of being able to turn them. With a little scream of frustration, she whipped out her wand and sputtered a cutting curse, ripping the paper into shreds, because it was too strong. With shaking fingers, she assembled the second page together, and taking a breath, she read the headline.

**Fenwicks Taken Over By The Ministry of Magic**

_Acting on the orders of Rufus Scrimgeour, the Upmarket Department Store has been taken over the Ministry of Magic, say-_

"Hey, Tonks, you're alright there, mate? You look a bit peaked." a voice interrupted her reverie. Tearing her mind from the moorings of her musings, she turned to see Dobson leaning against the partition of her cubicle, a cup of pumpkin juice in hand.

"I'm fine," she rubbed her face with her hand, appreciating his concern, but not wanting him to worry. "Just reading through the papers, that's all." At this his eyes became sober, and he nodded in understanding.

"Yes, it's depressing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tonks answered with a nod. "It is."

"Well, that's neither here nor there," Dobson said with an airy wave of his hand, "we're going to the Leaky Cauldron after we've finished work. Care to join us?"

"No, sorry." Tonks shook her head. She aimed her wand at the paper, watching it curling in on itself into a ball. With a flick of her wand, it hovered over her desk, spinning until it became a blur and disappeared with a 'pop.' "I've got to do something else this evening, maybe another time?"

"Oh?" Dobson's eyes lit up with mischief. "Ditching us for a better sort then, Ms. Tonks? Can't say I blame you."

"No," she wrinkled her nose at this, her spirits lightened by his humour. "I have to meet with someone today."

"Fair enough," he nodded, "this war is tough on everyone, it's decent of you to try to make time for those who are important-"

"No mate," Tonks cut in with a derisive laugh, holding her palm at shoulder height to emphasize her next words, "it's not like that."

"Go on, then." Dobson rolled his eyes in blatant disbelief, "enjoy your evening, I'll see you on Monday, yeah?" "Yeah, have a nice one." "You too."

No matter how many times she had seen it, Gringotts Bank was awe-inspiring.

Partway down Diagon Alley, near the intersection with Knockturn Alley, it was a landmark in itself �" a tall building carved out of blindingly white marble with burnished front doors. On top of the steps, a goblin stood guard, resplendent in his uniform of scarlet and gold. If this bank had been built in the Muggle world, there would have been postcards, key chains and other gaudy trinkets to distinguish it as a landmark.

In this world, it was just another building of business. People simply hurried on past, trying to get home before twilight. There was still a bustle of activity, but the noise was hushed, as if the world was wrapped in cotton wool. Tonks stood at the corner of Knockturn Alley, clad in her anorak and a beanie to shield her head and ears from the sharp chill breeze. Soon, her patience yielded fruit as the junior clerks burst through the set of brass doors, their robes flapping in the wind, like birds released from captivity. The guard acknowledged their chatter and giggles with a nod or two. From where she stood, Tonks could hear snatches of conversation.

"-are ye going to the Leaky Cauldron tonight?"

"No, I have to get on home now, or me mum will be livid." She saw Fleur amongst them, her hair silvery bright against the night of her robes. She was all smiles and speaking rapid French to the brunette beside her. Her eyes were warm and open; her hands seemed to be sketching pictures in the air, to the delight of her friend. Tonks stood where she was, dumbstruck by the change. During the course of their meetings, she had never seen this animated side of Fleur �" quite possibly only Bill had, because Molly and Ginny could not _stand_ her. Although, Tonks had to admit, her own run-ins with Fleur had not been stellar either-there had always been an awkward tension between them. But not today, she thought stoutly, an apology would set things to rights, and they would be able to... well--if not be friends, then at least be _civil_ to each other. That had to be something. Just as Tonks opened her mouth to call Fleur's name, Fleur's head turned, following the finger of her friend; her eyes settling on Tonks, and her features, once lively and warm, froze into a mask of disdain.

_"Qu'est-ce-c'est?"_

_"Personne. Mais je dois aller."_

Fleur responded in tones so chilled, Tonks felt the ice from where she stood.

_"Ah. À bientôt?"_

_"Oui, demain. Au revoir"_

With that matter settled they kissed each other on the cheek, and with a flick of a wand, her friend disappeared.

"Tonks," Fleur began, her hands tucked into her robes, "what are you doing 'ere?" she then made a great show of taking in their surroundings.

"Thees is not Ottery St. Catchpole."

Inwardly, Tonks cringed. Fleur was not going to make this apology easy, she _knew_ it, and probably she should just go home and- "Fleur," Tonks began, realizing that there was nothing else to say it but to say it. "I'm sorry, what I said was out of line and-"

"No." Fleur lifted up a hand, palm facing. "Not here, I'd rather speak somewhere else."

Stymied by this pronouncement, Tonks looked around, wondering what Fleur's concerns were with their surroundings. Just as she opened her mouth to query this, Fleur shook her head.

"If we are going to speak, I'd rather do eet somewhere warm and private, non?"

Tonks noted the chill of the wind, but then again, it was only March but the mist was heavier now, and people did not tarry outdoors unless they had to. "Well, we can Apparate to my flat, it's not far from here." The words just tripped out of her mouth unbidden, and dropped between them like little leaden stones. Fleur's face grew pensive.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Tonks started, trying to retract her invitation, "it's a bad idea and-"

"I have never been to your flat, and as such, I can't 'determine' where it is. It has Unplottable wards on it and such, I presume?" Fleur's voice was cool, almost to the point of wintry with seeming disdain. "Oh. Right." Tonks stuck her hands in the pockets of her anorak. Her cheeks and ears were burning, and she told herself that it was the cold.

"So, I'd have to side Apparate with you."

"Yes." There was a silence as the wind blew a gust of hair across Fleur's face, and with a tsk of impatience, she dashed at the offending shock of hair with her hand. She pushed most of it back, but a few stray strands remained across her face, caught in the corners of her mouth. Balling her hands into fists, Tonks tore her gaze away from the curve of Fleur's lips and studiously looked away to the long avenue of shops.

"Tonks?" Fleur's voice was soft, questioning.

"Yes?"

"I'll need to hold on to your arm."

On a mental count of three, Tonks turned around and faced her.

The grounds of their acquaintance had just shifted but she could not put a finger on how or why. But she knew if she held out her arm, it would be a tacit acceptance on both their parts if Fleur placed her hand there. She nodded at this, slipping her hand from her pocket and held it out, her eyes trained on Fleur. With an answering nod and a bemused expression, Fleur placed her fingers on Tonks' forearm and together, they Disapparated.

Chapter Five

They were here, in her flat.

_Here, in Her Flat_.

As soon as their feet touched the floor, they quickly separated from each other; Fleur stood waiting by the window while Tonks shrugged out of her coat, walking to the coat hooks near the door and tearing the beanie off her head as she did so, before roughly ruffling her hair. Then tried to smooth it with her fingers, before quickly giving up.

"It's so cold outside." Tonks murmured. She took off her gloves, chaffing her hands for warmth. Fleur tucked her hands into her robes, her features alight with amusement as she took in the dishevelled state of the room.

"Yes," she said, her voice bubbling with mirth, "it is."

"So," Tonks started, wondering what to do next. "Can I get you something?"

"Elderflower wine, if you have it, please."

"Certainly, if you'll just sit down-" Tonks scanned the room quickly, inwardly cringing at the small sofa buried under the avalanche of clothing, text books and copies of The Daily Prophet. "-anywhere?"

"Fine." At this, Fleur withdrew her wand from her robes, aimed at a spot of the sofa, and turned to Tonks, her lips curved in a slight smile. "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like this to go?"

"Erm… no. Put them wherever. I'll be back."

"Can't you accio the wine here?"

_Yes, I can. I bloody well can, but knowing my luck I'll smash the glasses and you'll bloody well laugh and then what will I do?_

"I don't mind getting it, honest-oh!" Tonks stumbled over a pile of newspapers, swinging her arm out to keep Fleur away, just catching her balance in time.

"Tonks?" Fleur stopped in mid spell, a portion of clothes floating in mid air, her eyes flickering with concern.

"I'm fine," Tonks croaked, before moving quickly towards her room. "Honestly."

Five minutes later, Tonks came into the front room, a mug and bottle of elderflower wine in tow, and tapped the bottle against the wall to announce her presence. Fleur sat at the far edge of the sofa, hugging her knees close to her body, her face thoughtful as she stared at the view through the window. Come to think of it, the view was not much, even though they were on the fifth floor, the mist obscured the landscape more often than not nowadays.

"So," Tonks began as she fumbled for a conversation starter, "are you expected back at the Burrow, then?"

"I only stay at the Burrow because Bill asked me to," Fleur replied, plucking at an imaginary piece of string from her robes.

"Oh, right."

"He thinks �"" Fleur started, her fingers trembling a bit, and she pressed them against her thigh to still them. Tonks saw the tremor in her fingers as Fleur splayed them open. "Bill worries about me. For all his 'getting to know his family better', he just wants to keep me safe, that's all." Fleur finished, her voice wavering in its uncertainty. Fleur pressed her fingers against her mouth for a second and for a terrible moment Tonks thought that Fleur was going to cry. Then Fleur appeared to remember where she was, for she smiled, though her eyes remained shadowed for a moment.

"For me?" she asked, her voice back to its normal timbre, frowning on seeing that Tonks only had one mug.

"Sorry, I can't drink. I'm on duty, I can be fire called anytime." Tonks explained, handing her the mug. Their fingers bumped against each other. Tonks jumped, swallowing a yelp--the jolt of current made her fingers nerveless, catching her off guard. There was a muffled clang of the mug against the bottle as Fleur leaned forward.

"_Leviosa_" Tonks hissed. "It can't break, it's the only bottle of wine I have left."

With a laugh, Fleur took the mug, and Tonks literally jumped away, making sure their fingers did not touch again.

_What's wrong with me?_

"Thank you." Fleur said, her manner utterly unruffled, and suddenly Tonks was at a loss. She could relate to the Fleur who picked at her robes, the one who looked at her hands with her face in shadow, she wanted to know that Fleur. Not this one, with the imperious air of an ice queen and features carved out of porcelain. So, Tonks moved to the sofa, and Fleur shifted, giving her space to sit down, with her legs tucked under her body. After sitting gingerly on the sofa's edge, she looked outside as well. The night was dark, with the mist rolling outside, so dense that she could not see the silhouettes of the buildings in the distance. Reflexively, her fingers toyed with the hilt of her wand.

"So, what's it like?"

"Sorry?" Tonks looked across at her companion. Fleur's hair was a silver sheet that flowed over her back and shoulders. A few stray strands caught in her mouth, her lips slick with the gloss of wine.

"Being an Auror." Fleur rolled her shoulders. "What is it like? Is eet exciting?"

"At times." Tonks responded with a shrug. "At times it takes your breath away…" her voice hitched a bit at this, trying not to wince at flashbacks to the Department of Mysteries, and the jolt of stone against flesh. Swallowing audibly, she continued, "at other times, it's just a job, you know? What about you?"

"I'm not an Auror!" Fleur responded indignantly. At this Tonks laughed, and she was surprised at how easy it sounded �"without the tinge of mania to it- and how different she felt. "I know �" you know what I mean." Her tone grew serious again. "You're a foreigner, in a foreign land, in the middle of a war."

At this Fleur's smile disappeared, and muttering a charm, she made the mug float in the air beside her, as she steepled her fingers together. "Voldemort won't stop at England," she mused darkly. "If he wins, his power will spread, and in a way, we will be all British. I don't find England so foreign, just the weather and the food."

"The weather?" Tonks waved at the fog outside wanting to make a joke about it, and suddenly finding that she could not. "It's depressing, isn't it?"

"Very." There was a swollen stillness after this exchange, the silence only broken by the rustle of robes as Fleur shifted in her seat, or her own breathing. If it had been any other time �" other than this war - they might have been out in the city doing a pub crawl, or chatting nonsense over the silliest things, like miming Celestina Warlock's terrible caterwauling. Oh, Molly was different in the sense of her platitudes, and her colleagues spoke in clipped tones about the day to day tasks that they had to do. Remus was lovely and fascinating, his humour subtle and dark, but she missed speaking about _nonsense_. She longed to chat about the latest Werid Sister's gossip or how stupid that the fashionistas were forcing three-quarter length sleeves down their throats this season.

Honestly, where would you put your wands if the sleeves were bracelet length? But in order to have fun and amusing discussions, she needed a friend, and right now, this was not it.

"We won't be friends, will we?" Tonks asked suddenly, her voice (she hoped) being casual with the rhetoric.

"No."

The reply from the other end of the sofa was resigned. Interesting how rejection had no immunity, Tonks thought, while simultaneously wincing at the jagged ache of it. After Remus, one would think that she would have gotten used to the word 'no' by now, he had words for 'no' like Eskimos had for snow. Mentally, she would poke at it �"that tender spot of _no_\- and congratulate herself for her resilience, for keeping her sense of humour despite the sting of tears. So, where was the humour now, she wondered, and why this time, did this one hurt just a little bit more? Surely she should have had a callous on her heart from the friction of the word 'no' by now. Surreptitiously, she curled her hand into a fist, the blunt pain of fingers cutting into her palm.

"Oh." Tonks forced herself to exhale, to speak almost normally, meanwhile wondering how soon she could ask Fleur to leave her flat, mentally damning etiquette. Dare she wait until Fleur finished her drink, or could she claim fatigue and go to bed? "Listen-" she started to move, only to feel warm fingers clamping her forearm.

"Tonks, let me finish." Tonks looked down at her arm, feeling her flesh prickling with anticipation of something…

"No, I think you've said what you've needed to say." Tonks raised her eyes to meet Fleur's, her face flushed with chagrin. "I-"

"I've seen how you look at me."Tthe words tumbled out of Fleur's mouth, her cheeks tinted with embarrassment even with the dim light of outside. Tonks jerked her head away, looking at the sky outside. She _had_ been looking at Fleur for a while now. In Molly's kitchen, at the threshold of the stairs at the Burrow, seeking her out earlier…

"And you look away…" Fleur continued, her fingers still on Tonks' arm, her voice faint. "So you can't see how I �" I look at you."

_What?_ Tonks turned to face Fleur, hardly daring to believe, _to hope_. "What?" She felt it too, Tonks thought timidly at first, before she opened herself to the fact that her feelings were shared and mutual, she opened herself to the simple giddy truth of it, the sheer joy and relief of this being a mutual thing, whatever this thing was. She felt it too. _And didn't want to deny it_.

"Tonks…" She heard Fleur breathe, feeling the ghost of Fleur's finger tips brushing her jaw, and Tonks found her hand skimming the sleek line of Fleur's arm, before drifting to her hair, her fingers becoming entangled in the tendrils at the side of her face. Awestruck, she rubbed the fine strands between forefinger and thumb, half believing that this was her- _them_\- being here, doing this, and Tonks leaned forward, her destination clear, barely noting the dull _thunk_ of the mug as it tumbled to the floor. Her lips were soft and hesitant at first, her breath redolent of the wine that she just drank. Clumsily, Tonks pressed her lips to Fleur's, feeling them giving way to moist heat and slick of tongue.

Oh, and wasn't it odd how fast her heart was beating - the synapses in her mind shorted out at the shock of new flesh as Fleur's lips brushed her cheek, and on feeling a hint of tongue there. At Fleur's shudder of breath, Tonks dropped her wand, only caring to anchor her fingers into the neckline of her robe, not caring that their teeth clinked together with a sharp jounce, only wanting �"and tasting- the muscat flavour of the wine, and the perfume of her mouth… Kissing Fleur was different, softer, quieter and gentler than… _anyone_.

They broke apart, Fleur's hair a silvery curtain across their faces, tickling her face like butterflies' wings, and… "I have to go." Fleur murmured suddenly, biting her lower lip with her teeth. "It's getting late, and-"

_Go?_ _Go where?_ Tonks blinked, and gingerly shook her head. She was right, she did not live here and- _Do you have to_?

"Will you be okay?" at Fleur's quizzical look, Tonks continued, embarrassed by how solicitous she sounded. "Getting home, I mean?"

"I'll be fine." Fleur ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it into some semblance of order before adjusting her robes. "Your apparition point, it's over there, yes?" she said, pointing to the corner near the window. "Yes." Tonks responded, absently chafing her shoulders with the sudden chill in the air at the thought of Fleur departing.

"Okay." Fleur nodded, slipping into her shoes, and walking to the corner of room. Tonks watched as she fumbled for her wand, and as Fleur started to turn, her wand at an angle, she stopped. "Tonks, I … good night."

"Good night." And they did not move, they just took each other in for a long moment; Fleur's hand on the hilt of her wand to Apparate, and Tonks frozen on the sofa, just waiting. "Will we- can we-?" _see each other again?_ "Yes." Fleur breathed, before spinning on her heel and disappearing with a pop, leaving Tonks sitting alone in the room. _Alone, but not lonely anymore_.

Chapter Six

 

It was surprising how quickly they tumbled into it- whatever this was- from tentative touches on the wrists to this; a slide of tongues, the slight bite of teeth on lip. They met when and where they could, a flutter of lashes as their lips locked, the skim of fingers on flesh, the shudder of breath as Fleur's hand brushed her breast, and she arched into the touch every time, her body quaking with the want of more. It didn't matter where they were or what they were. What was important was her skin under Fleur's mouth, and how she would _burn_.

This was different, so different… from anyone. Fleur was her height, softly curved, her arms circling around her neck and shoulders - they _fit_. She feeling the soft line of Fleur's breasts and stomach against hers, and their hands were everywhere… and her scent would be civet mixed with the saffron of the soup bubbling downstairs in the Burrow or jasmine and leather and smoky birch, an incense within the walls of her flat. Other times, it would be Tonks' turn, her fingers lost in the wealth of Fleur's hair, as she rained endearments on Fleur's lashes and cheeks.

She loved Fleur's button nose, and the gust of breath as either of them said something inappropriate- and she would capture Fleur's giggles with her mouth, feeling the mirth bubbling through her body and making her giddy with it ...before their kisses shifted into something sticky, tar-like; an opiate that drugged, exhilarated, rendered each powerless against the surge of heat between them and Tonks' hand would stray from Fleur's hair to the neck of her robes, feeling them give with a muted rip as they tumbled to the floor. Every time they met they fell into each other like this and each time was distinctive and new.

At night before she slipped into sleep, the trace of Fleur would unfurl those hours later, her scent hovering like a ghost over Tonks' skin. The best part of their meetings was Fleur's throaty laugh, as they shared anecdotes from their respective days.

"-and this man said that my hair had the gleam of a Patronous." Fleur finished amused, tossing her hair back from her shoulders. It was six pm, and they were in Tonks' bed, a tangle of limbs and bedclothes. Fleur sat in the middle of the bed, her legs folded underneath her yoga style, while Tonks' head was on her knee. Fleur ruffled her hair from time to time with one hand, while flicking through the pages of _The Daily Prophet_ with the other.

"Ah, the English, they're silly, no?" she leaned over, dropping a kiss on top of Tonks' hair, and Tonks jokingly disagreed. "Not _all_ the time. We do have our moments though."

"Will your hair ever be pink again?" Fleur mused wistfully, as she gently stroked Tonks' cheek. "It was really pretty," she continued, her smile somewhat sad. "Very you."

Tonks sighed, "I don't know," she answered, lost in thought, raising her head from Fleurs' knee and scuttling to the edge of the bed. She sat there, with her back to Fleur. "I honestly don't know."

"Do you even _try_ ?" Fleur's voice was hesitant, and Tonks briefly shut her eyes. The room had gotten dark and chilly, with her only being in a top and knickers. With a murmur, she aimed her fingers at the lamp, lighting it with a soft 'pop', watching it fill the room with its glow. The chill, she could do nothing about, apart from blankets and a hot water bottle, because some things were better than magic.

"It's hard," Tonks admitted heavily. "I do try, and focus… to the point of nosebleeds. I can't tell anyone at work, because -"

"I hate this war." Tonks heard the tear of newsprint that accompanied her comment, and turned around. Fleur was still in the position she was before, her hair falling around her face and shoulders. Tonks heard the muffled sob, saw the heave of shoulders as Fleur's hands flew to her face. "I wish-" she started, as Tonks gathered her close, a bundle of limbs and hair. "- I wish I could fight, but Bill just wants �""

At this, Tonks felt Fleur's body go still, and she looked away. They never discussed their significant others nor feelings. They weren't friends, and as such, they could not act that way.

"I hate the war too." Tonks magicked the bedclothes so that they wrapped them in warmth, and she stroked Fleur's shoulders and blinked back her own tears.

"We can hate it together, no?" Fleur asked with a watery laugh. "Yes." Tonks nodded, as she searched for Fleur's hand to tangle their fingers together. "Yes, we can."

At other times, Tonks would be at the Burrow, taking tea, listening to Molly twitter on about love seeing her and Remus through; Arthur would fire call in the evenings, leaving Tonks to explore the Burrow, and find herself giggling with Fleur on the top stair. "I hate this bloody mist all the time," she would start, "bloody Dementors." Fleur tilted her head observing the thickness of the mist outside, and Tonks would feel the tremors going through Fleur's body, and her breath always caught when Fleur looked at her. "Really? Is this different from the English weather? I _hardly_ noticed."

Tonks would laugh softly, before brushing her lips against Fleur's, feeling the teasing slick of tongue and curve of lip and heat before Disapparating downstairs, just in time for Molly to finish her discussions with Arthur and serve Tonks supper. "Never mind Fleur," Molly would say, as she bustled around the kitchen, "she's a strange one. I honestly don't know what Bill sees in her."

"She's … charming, I'm sure." Tonks responded, before taking a sip of her tea. Molly only harrumphed at this as she swept off to do something else, leaving Tonks at the table, hoping that her face gave nothing away. Sometimes, she wondered how long this thing would last. What they had was a sort of poison, Tonks thought, a single drop of it creating rings, bones and shadows, a sort of hazy existence, thriving on the absence of full light. What they had could never survive in the daylight of their lives, and they should break it off, it did not mean anything. The matter supposedly resolved, she met Fleur the next day to tell her so, only for her intentions to be scattered like leaves in a fall draught at the next kiss, and before her senses flooded with Fleur, Tonks thought �" _next time. The next time I will_. In retrospect, it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

_She did it_.

Had done �" did do - "Ouch!" Tonks shrieked as the medi-witch pressed a poultice against her arm. She was at the Wizarding world's equivalent of casualty. She was a member of the secondary team chosen to support an Auror task force some time earlier. It had been her first battle since the Department of Mysteries, and she had a bad moment when her name was called, but swallowing back her bile, she bit her lip and Apparated into the thick of the skirmish. As her adrenaline levels plummeted, her temperature dropped, and she found herself shivering, hardly noticing the warming spell that the medi-witch did for her. She was there, in her first call to action since Sirius died. _"Come on! Come on!" A scream in her ear as pain speared through her knee. _

"The Death Eaters! That way! Look sharp!" They were responding to a distress call made by overwhelmed Aurors in Firth. Twilight. _ Mist. Dusk shredded into ribbons by blades of red and green daggers from wands, and squinting, she was vaguely aware of the shadows around her �" "Tonks, BEHIND YOU!" Whirl, duck �" wand out �" Suddenly she was there - at the Ministry of Magic Again. The stones rushing up to meet her- No. No. Not now. _

"Dobson!" she screamed, shooting a counter course at the DE opposite her.

"Move! NOW!" After that, her senses fractured into screams, grunts and dodging curses. _But I did it_. Tonks raised her fists to shoulder height and punched the air in triumph. She had not choked at all.

_I'm an Auror. This is what I do_.

"You're free to go." The medi-witch murmured, writing something on a piece of parchment. "Your vitals are good, and if you keep that poultice in place over night, your wound should be good as healed. Here-"

Nodding, Tonks took the piece of skin and looked at it, then looked up. "Take that to the Apothecary down the hall, take two draughts in the next twenty four hours, and if there's numbness still, fire call."

"Yes, thank you." Tonks hopped off the dais, and grabbed her battered anorak from its edge. "Fine, next-" _Dobson_, she thought as she moved toward the door, and stopped.

_I have to share this with Dobson_. "Excuse me," Tonks began, her mood still buoyant, "can you tell me where I can find Patrick Dobson?" At this, the medi-witch's face became studiously blank.

"Are you a relative?"

"Erm… no. I'm his partner."

"Sorry, that information is for relatives only," came the curt response, and then applying her wand to her throat and muttering a _Sonorous_, bellowed, "Next!"

Shrugging into her coat, Tonks walked stiff- legged to the Apothecary and exchanged the parchment for something in a glass tube, trying to shake the feeling of unease that weighted her shoulders. The halls of St. Mungos were fairly hushed, even though there were a lot of people milling around. The war did that, she noted, made people fearful and quiet. It was its own Dementor, stealing through halls and replacing souls with icy dread. She tried to move quietly, but gave up after bumping into trays and other patients, so she went for a swagger, hopefully looking braver than she felt.

"Dobson-" she heard a snatch of his name at the end of the hall, and looked up. It was Proudfoot and Savage- two of her fellow Aurors whom she patrolled with at Hogwarts - and saw them freeze.

"Proudfoot. Savage." she breathed, jogging towards them. It was good to see familiar faces in this place. "Mates, I'm so glad you're here," she greeted as soon as she was in their space. "I'm trying to find Dobson, and nobody's saying anything and-"

"Tonks." Savage replied, his face solemn, his voice sad. Her insides chilled at this, and reflexively, Tonks pulled the edges of her coat tighter around her. Her stomach suddenly became a nexus of tight, hard knots, and there was no air. Reflexively, she shivered, knowing that something was _wrong_. The air was thick with it, the fug of augury, and swallowing the dust in her throat, she only had one word.

"Dobson?"

"Tonks , let's not speak here, let's go somewhere else-" Proudfoot started, reaching for her, and she automatically shied away from his touch. "Dobson?" she repeated, turning her gaze to Savage, finding him suddenly a blur of lines and colour.

"Destroyed."

_Destroyed?_ She must have said it aloud, because Savage explained with characteristic sympathy. "In the raid, he was attacked by a werewolf, and we only found out when he came to St. Mungos-"

"But werewolves can be treated �" we have �" which room is he in?" she stammered, about to turn away and demand answers from the medi-witch who treated her.

"Not if they're Aurors. He'd have defected to the other side, you see and-"

"You believe that?" Tonks' voice was almost mute by her horror, and she rapidly blinked her tears away. "Dobson was a good Auror!" she almost shrieked, catching her voice at the last minute before it cracked. On a breath, and a softer note, she moved on. "He was a good man."

"They stop being men when they're werewolves," Proudfoot shrugged, his voice casual with the confidence of belief. "Gawain sanctioned it when he came into office, you can't be an Auror _and_ a werewolf, they are mutually non-exclusive terms-" He was cut off by the crack of Tonks' palm meeting his cheek. A stunned quiet followed.

"I can't believe you said that!" The words just shot out from her mouth, and she gritted her teeth, refusing to cry in front of these two. Savage easily slipped between them both, nudging Proudfoot to one side, as he looked at her, his eyes sympathetic, but his manner firm. "I'm sorry, Tonks, but you are out of line. Your conduct will have to be reported. Gawain's office, 1600 hours, tomorrow."

 

That's where she was now, at the head of the Auror office of the Ministry of Magic. Tonks took in the cave of a room.

The walls lined with books, covers ranging from bamboo to animal skins, and there were grotesque oddities here and there, a horn from a unicorn, and a bit of fur from big foot. She was seated, clad in formal robes, her form dwarfed by a huge chair, trying not to flinch as Gawain read Savage's report.

"So this is an accurate summation of events, Nymphadora?" Tonks nodded, not daring to look at Gaiwan for long. Whereas Scrimegeour had the features of a lion, Gaiwan had the build and qualities of a weasel, with a lean face and a sly grin that did not reach his spectacled eyes.

"Yes."

"I can understand you being …overwrought," Gaiwan continued delicately, folding his arms in front of him, as he tilted his head towards her. "You're young, and Dobson was �""

"A friend," Tonks affirmed, biting her lower lip so that it stopped trembling.

"And my partner."

"But assaulting your colleague is no excuse, Nymphadora. We are in a war, and you can't be fighting with your allies-"

"But �"Proudfoot - he said -"

"And he's right." Gaiwan nodded, moving from his chair, and walking over to the library. "We are in a war, Nymphadora. As an Auror, you swore an oath to guard the Wizarding world against the agents of evil, and if you had taken the time to read what you were swearing for, you wouldn't be so… confused."

Tonks gulped, and opened her mouth, knowing that she risked being cited for insubordination, but she had to say it. "We're in a war, yes, but we aren't any better than them, are we?" She wiped a tear away with shaky fingers. "We imprison innocents like Shunpike in Azkaban, and we kill good people like Dobson because-"

"This conversation is over now, Nymphadora." Gaiwan's voice had the gust and ice of an Artic blast. There was a brief pause after this, before he started again, his voice a touch softer. "You're a good Auror, and have the ability to do well, and go far. So, I expect to see you in attire tomorrow, ready to stand by us and fight with us. If not, I expect your desk cleared within two hours." Tonks nodded mutely, squeezing her hands into fists, wanting to leave now before she started screaming and not being able to stop. Mercifully, he granted her leave, and blinded by tears she Apparated home.

Dobson was dead. No �" _destroyed_ \- by the same society he swore to uphold and protect. Tonks was no innocent, she knew that an Auror's life was a difficult and precarious one, but to be destroyed by the same institution that he �" _Remus_.

At this her hands flew to her mouth at the thought of Remus out there, with Greyback and �"_Oh God_. For the past two hours, she had been sitting here, in the dark, the events of the past twenty four hours broken up into a flurry of images and emotions and she just needed to just _think_\- For a brief moment, she thought about Apparating back to work, and clearing out her desk, but she did not, the thought of Proudfoot's sneer, Remus' sense of humour and Dobson's grin anchored her to her seat.

The only way to have active change was within, and she could do a lot more for the Order by being an Auror rather than being rogue, and when the war was won, she would change things, because Dobson's memory deserved it, just as much as Remus did.

_Because I'm an Auror. This is what I do_. She loved Remus, and had to stop acting like a silly girl in order to be worthy of it. Despite everything �" everything- the wizarding world threw at Remus, he still soldiered on, doing his duties to the Order and the Wizarding society in general. He did this despite and in spite of everything; the losses he suffered over the years, each damning and significant in its own way. For her to walk away from the Ministry of Magic would be petty, and she wouldn't be worthy of Remus' respect in that regard.

If he could actually run with Greyback's pack �" _after all he'd been through_ �" what excuse did she have _not_ to be an Auror, no matter how distasteful? If she loved Remus, how could she give anything less than all of herself when she demanded more of what he was willing to give? Idealism was all well and good, but it never won the wars, grit and determination did.

_Duty overshadows desire_, a pretty thought, a lovely ideal but finally, the phrase started to make sense, to take shape, but- Tonks wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her robe at this, allowing herself to weep, just a little. If she broke now, she would never be able to put herself back together, and right now, she needed to focus.

_Fleur_. She had to end it with Fleur. She already had a loyalty to the Order and her own personal fealty to Remus, and whatever this was with Fleur was not a part of it. Could not be a part of it, it may have been lust, need, solace �" whatever �" it ended here, had to end here. Remus needed someone _whole_, not cracked and crumbling like Sirius Black had been after Azkaban, with chunks of himself lost in James and Harry.

She needed to be whole for him, not with a part of her soul hid in someone else like a Horcrux, she had to be complete. There was one more matter that she had to face, and her heart ached at the pain of it, because there was no other way around it.

Five minutes later, there was the sharp sizzle of ozone and magic, as Fleur Apparated in the space by the window.

"Tonks." she started, her voice hoarse, and her eyes wild, "I just heard." Tonks slowly raised her head. She had not moved from the sofa since she came in, barely noticing how Fleur's robes were askew, or how dishevelled her hair was. "How?" "_The Daily Prophet_," Fleur began, "I get it at work, and �""

"You don't take _The Daily Prophet_." Tonks cut in coldly, a dark part of her happy to see Fleur flush with embarrassment.

"I've only recently started �" because of you- what you do." Fleur finished lamely, still standing in the corner. Tonks only shrugged brusquely at this. "Tonks, I read about the raid," Fleur began, and Tonks felt the give of sofa under Fleur's weight, and the warmth of her fingers against her own chill ones. "Are you …" she felt Fleur searching for the word, and almost cried when she said, "are you well?"

"They killed him," Tonks started to sob, "they killed him because he was mauled by a werewolf and became one and-"

"Who?" Fleur started, "who did they kill?" and at this her eyes widened with fear and softened with sympathy as her voice broke. "Lup-?"

"Forget it," Tonks laugh was bitter. "You wouldn't understand."

"I see." Fleur said, and Tonks winced at the hurt tone in her voice. She was being very clumsy and going the wrong way about this and Fleur deserved better, Fleur deserved to know.

"Fleur…" Tonks started, grabbing at and holding Fleur's hand, realizing that now was the time to tell her. "We can't do this. Something's happened over the past two days, and �"" Tonks broke off, willing her voice not to shatter. "Fleur, I'm sorry, I've made my choice." She lifted her eyes to Fleur's tear shimmered ones. "We're in the middle of a war," Tonks continued, "and people are going to die, especially people we love, and I can afford to break for one, but not two."

Tonks paused at this, knowing that this was the time to do it, before it got even harder, because this was so _bloody_ hard enough right now. "I've chosen, and it's- it's Remus. Not you. I can't afford it to be you, and I can't �"" "Oh. _Oh_." Fleur was close enough to tears, and Tonks watched as Fleur looked towards the sky outside. She tried not to wince as Fleur withdrew her hand from Tonks' own, dabbing at her cheeks with the sleeves of her robe.

"Remus needs me," Tonks finished softly. "Because of everything �" he needs me." _In ways you never would_.

"I see." Fleur turned to her, her cheeks wet, her lashes darkened and spiky with tears. "How wonderful for you, I mean." "And you have Bill," Tonks went on, breaking their unspoken vow regarding their men. "He loves you and what we had-"

"It wasn't wrong." Fleur interjected sternly, colour high on her cheeks.

"No, you're right. It wasn't wrong, just…" her voice trailed off, ironically wishing for an excuse that Remus would use, a gentle let down that would delay the hurt until after he left her to think it through, and what it meant. But she was not like that, did not operate like that. "I'm sorry Fleur," Tonks reached forward and curled a strand of silver hair around her index finger for the last time. "I'm so terribly sorry."

Fleur nodded, and Tonks noted how she swaddled her composure around her like a blanket. Tossing her hair back Fleur whispered with a half smile. "We will never be friends, will we?"

"No." Tonks whispered in sad agreement. "Good bye then."

"Good bye." Fleur nodded and Apparated with a flick her wand, and Tonks sat, staring out at the window until the mist grew light in colour. At seven a.m. Tonks got up and shrugged out of her rumpled soiled robes, her eyes burning, but her decision made. She was going to work today.

Chapter Seven

Shortly after, the world dropped from its rafters and smashed. Death- not satisfied with just circling around and picking characters off at the periphery- struck at the heart of the Order in the form of Severus Snape. No matter how much she tried later on, Tonks never completely remembered that night in early late June when Dumbledore died. Because it was not the sure process of pictures on celluloid, segueing smoothly from one scene to another; it was more as if someone took the pages of the story board, hurled them into a howler of a storm, and gathered them up only after the squall had had its time of it. Some pieces were lost forever in the subconscious, other pictures water logged and spotty, which only made the clear images uncomfortably so.

Like throwing herself at Remus, clutching at his robes in the Infirmary, seeing his face shut down at the news of Dumbledore and �" In hindsight, it probably was not the best time to get into it, into what they were, but how could she not?

_"This is ... not the moment to discuss it."_ At the time, Tonks didn't much care. Especially since she had allies to help pummel his objections down. Though he was right. It was not the time to discuss it, not then, not with Dumbledore's death still so sudden and fresh that she could smell his signature lemon drops on the wind.

Hogwarts felt a little smaller, a little more vulnerable since his demise, she mused, toying with the hilt of her wand. She was at the castle turrets, watching the other Aurors trying to pick up magical signatures. This was a job for the Hit Wizards, and they were all here. Normally it would have been a treat to watch how they worked, but not today. It had been twenty four hours since her outburst, and Remus had not contacted her since. Oh, they had seen each other- the Order meeting at the Burrow, still dazed over Sev- _Snape's_ betrayal, Bill's wounds �" but they had not exchanged a word beyond the pleasantries.

So Tonks retreated to her flat, defeated, and wondering what to do next.

To Molly and Arthur's astonishment, Fleur stood by Bill, chattering happily and wisecracking on the differences between the French and English cuisine. Tonks looked on unobtrusively, seeing Fleur content with the life set out before her and her place within it. Later that day, Tonks, Molly, and Fleur were in Fleur's rooms, making small talk relating to the wedding ceremony. Molly had styled Fleur's hair into a complicated chignon, showing off the silver tiara to its' best advantage. After a moment of fluttering and exclamations, Molly popped out from the room for a minute to forage for the wedding veil that came with it.

Tonks stood near the door, seeing Fleur seated at the vanity, her beauty aloof and aristocratic, the silver mass of hair swept into the smooth lines of the chignon, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. Probably if she were quiet, Fleur would not say a word, and they could remain like this- _in stasis_ �" their eyes meeting in the mirror and both of them silent, because they already had their say some time ago.

"Do you like what you see?"

Then again, Fleur was not one to follow a script. "You'll be a lovely bride." Tonks answered sincerely, because it was true.

At this a hint of an ironic smile marked Fleur's lips. Taking up her wand, she did a general motion in the direction of her hair, and it unfurled from its style, streaming past her shoulders and down her back. The tiara then repositioned itself on her head in a rakish tilt; like how one would wear a _cloche_ .

"I prefer it this way." she said, with a toss of her head. "Molly and I may get on now, but this is my wedding, not hers." At this, Tonks could not help but be amused. Despite everything, Fleur still made her laugh. "So, have you and Lupin worked it out yet?" Fleur asked, turning to face her.

"I �""

"None of my business, non?" she went on, "you can say that, you wouldn't be wrong." Tonks shook her head. "That's not true. It is, in a way, I-"

"You haven't come to apologize, have you?" Fleur interjected curiously, her eyes kind. "You shouldn't really, we did what we did, and it's nothing. You were right, Tonks �"" she got up, and moved to the window, leaning against its sill.

"Right, how?"

"Oh, you know-" a shrug of the shoulders again, a toss of her head. "We're in a war, and we can only break for one. You shouldn't be here, listening to Molly's chatter, and bored out of your mind chasing chickens. Your hair should be pink again." At this Fleur's voice softened slightly. "You understand?" Tonks did, and yanking her wand from the waist of her jeans, turned to leave. Fleur was still standing there by the window, Tonks looked at her for a long moment, admiring her freely for the last time.

Then, she Apparated.

 

Eventually, she found Remus near the Shrieking Shack, after being directed there by Minerva Mcgonagall. Tonks only came this way once on a dare when she was a first year and had never been back since. The building was much more ramshackle than she remembered; the wooden boards were weather split and warped by the brief kisses of summers and the sustained blast of winter winds characteristic of the north of Scotland. If she had her way, she would blast the shack into little toothpicks and use them to serve pigs in a blanket by a bonfire. Tonks remembered Remus choking on his tea because he laughed so hard when she told him her plans, and remembered preening to herself. _See, I can make you laugh, I can make you happy_.

He was standing in front of the Shack, his hands in the pockets of his patched coat. It was cold here, even in the summer. With Dumbledore's death, it had become colder, quieter. A light had gone out in this part of the world, and the darkness once held at bay by his presence, began to creep inwards. Shaking her head at her fancy, and dismissing it with the sunset, Tonks refocused her attention on Remus.

His features were clouded with something that she could not place. Stepping forward, she touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Remus," she started, "I'm sorry about Dumbledore, and Snape and-" Remus closed his eyes a minute before answering, "it's not your fault, we're in a war." Remus turned to her briefly, before looking at the shed again. "People die and loyalties shift. That is the way of it."

"Not for me." Tonks said quickly, her grip on his arm tightening. Remus looked at her sharply, _as if_, she thought, _he was seeing me for the first time_.

"Tonks," he began with wry amusement, "as much as you're an Auror and a Metamorphmagus, I hardly think those attributes make you indestructible."

"No, I don't mean that," Tonks shook her head, impatient with herself. "I mean- I mean loyalty, my loyalty to you, I-"

"Tonks, I-" Remus began. Tonks could hear his manner shift into that well-recognized stoicism, his demeanour as distant and indifferent as the moon; and she felt herself slipping into his orbit out of habit, just another satellite controlled by the gravity of his conduct and emotions, denied any power of her own. _To hell with this_.

"No," she interjected, not wanting to hear it this time. "I already know, you're too old, too poor, too dangerous. I get it, Remus, I really do, but I don't care!" She cut in, palms facing outward, not wanting to hear this again, needing him to listen to her this time.

"Tonks-"

"Please." she started, calmer this time. Remus had no defence against studied calm, she found; tapping into this knowledge she used it to press him to her advantage. "I've heard your reasons, I've been hearing them for the past year. I need you to hear mine."

"Tonks, per-"

"Just listen," she started, cutting in before she gave him the chance to think, to come up with another variation of _'no'_. "Please. I have something to say to you, and I just want you to listen."

Remus stilled and she could feel the waves of tension radiating from where she stood. If she gave him enough room, he would Disapparate, and they would continue as they were now, and it could not work for either of them. But he gave her a slow nod and stood there waiting, hands in his coat, his features pleasant and unreadable.

"While you were away, there was -" Tonks looked away in the distance to the lake where the Giant Squid dwelt. After an awkward silence, she forced herself to look at him again, biting her lip. "There was someone." Tonks withdrew her wand from her jeans pocket and started to fiddle with it, or else her hands would start gesticulating and it would all be over.

"Tonks, our relationship wasn't mutually exclusive �""

"I _know_." Tonks clamped down on the jab of hurt from that lightly dismissive tone that he used to great effect--another trademark no. _I'll cry over that later_, she decided. _I'm dealing with this now_.

"I was seeing someone." she continued, on a shudder of breath, "and I don't know what it could've been, but I know what it wasn't, and it wasn't you." Remus' eyes widened with pure surprise, and there was stark quiet at the end of this speech. Tonks waited. She had this scene all played out in her head. At any time now Remus should say something… anything. Now? "Remus?" "Did you love him?"

"Yes," Tonks admitted with a whisper, dropping her eyes to the ground briefly, only realizing it now--the exchange with Fleur at the Burrow, Fleur's tears at her apartment when they bade each other good bye…_how wonderful for you_. "Yes." she repeated, lifting her eyes to his.

"But there's no contest. I love you more, and I-" she splayed her fingers against his chest for emphasis -"chose you." Remus closed his eyes again for a long moment.

"It's that easy for you?" Remus murmured finally. He turned to her, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn't identify.

"Just that easy," Tonks replied, lifting her chin defiantly, her face flushing.

"Of course," he replied evenly, running a hand through his fringe; to no avail though, because it fell right back into place again, shadowing his eyes.

Tonks had had it. "Just once, Remus, just for once--" she shook her head, her voice shaking with her effort to keep calm. "Can't anything be straightforward for you? For the past year we've been going about this, and I'm just asking you to- "

Her voice trailed off. His features hadn't changed�"they were still pleasant, and stubbornly closed. He wasn't going to budge, ever. _This is hopeless_. She released the hold on his arm and turned away without another word, her shoulders slumping in defeat. _You win, Remus, I give up--_

"Yes." Tonks whirled around, eyes wide, hardly daring to breathe. _What did you say?_

Remus' deep brown eyes were warm and clear and focused directly on her. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but his lined face was open now, and Tonks' heart caught in her throat. He waited a beat before he continued with a soft murmur.

"I can't promise you a lot, Tonks, but I can try." _Yes_. He said yes. Not a no, but a _yes_.

"That's all I ever wanted, Remus." Tonks moved towards him and buried her head in his chest, listening to his heart beat, and feeling the eventual warmth as his hands tentatively slid around her shoulders. As he folded her tighter against him it was not so dark or desolate anymore, and she could survive anything, be anything because he said yes-- After a thousand 'nos', he finally said yes.

**End**


End file.
